"Lady Fiona," the guard said in a quiet voice. His eyes roamed the main dining hall. "I dinnae mean tae disturb yer meal, but there are four men on horseback at the front of the castle gaits. The leader is askin' tae come inside an' speak tae the Laird, an' we told him tha' the Laird willnae see him, but he insists on comin' inside. D'ye want us tae fire the arrows at him and his men?"
The guardsman had a somber look about him. He looked at her with large eyes, eagerly awaiting her word.
"Why do ye look like tha'?" she asked her own voice dropping. "An' what do ye mean?' Guard, is there somethin' wrong?"
The guard leaned closer, glancing around nervously. Several of the servants were looking in her direction, concerned looks on their faces. They had caught sight of her drawn expression; she and the guard had been talking secretly for too long, and Fiona saw that they now looked curious.
"Aye, Lady Fiona," he said. "I believe tha' the man in the group with the loudest mouth is Duncan Robertson. He's been insistin' tha' he come inside and talk with the Laird. I didnae tell him tha' the Laird has left some days ago. I have a few men with an eye on 'em still; I dinnae want tae leave them alone."
"Ye said four men?" she asked. "Including Duncan?"
"Aye," the guard said. "I didnae see anyone else with 'im, but it's gotten dark, and we cannae see far intae the trees."
Fiona felt her heart racing in her chest, and she swallowed nervously. If Duncan Robertson was here asking for Iain, that meant he had at least not seen and attacked him while traveling. She could at least take comfort in knowing Iain was safe from that vile monster. It had been over seven years since her beloved Caelan's life had been taken by Duncan's hand, but she still felt the twinge of her heart when his face appeared in her mind's eye.
"Let the man in," she said. "But only tae the courtyard an' only him, y'hear? I will talk tae him in Iain's stead, but I'm goin' tae need several guards with me. I dinnae trust the sly fox, but I also dinnae think he will leave unless we let him in. It would be wiser tae at least see what he wants tae discuss."
The man nodded once, a sharp motion that showed he understood, and he turned on his heel to inform the other guards of her words.
Fiona set her fork down with hands that shook. If she could, she would run a blade through Duncan Robertson's heart all on her own, but she knew that it was impossible. Still, if the man were looking for Iain, it was impertinent that she bought him time in his endeavor. She would stall the man as much as she could for her son, but in her heart, she prayed that he returned home soon.
She gathered the skirts of her green gown in her hand and, ignoring the stares of the servants and the maids, made her way to the courtyard. She was allowing a treacherous serpent into their home; she knew that much. Fiona's legs were shaking as she swiftly whisked herself outdoors, ignoring the chill in the air. There were several guards outside already, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. The hatred between the two clans was no secret, especially amongst the ranks of the soldiers and guards.
Caelan had been a wonderful husband and an inspiring Laird that had been beloved by all. His death had not been taken well by the clan, and the wave of hatred wafting from her guards was apparent. The six men standing in a half-circle were murmuring to themselves, their hands itching to reach for their weapons.
"Listen tae me," Fiona said. "I want yer eyes on the man at all times, hear? But I dinnae want the forests neglected either. Keep guards on the ramparts, facin' every direction. We dinnae want tae fall under siege, especially if Iain isnae here."
It was obvious to Fiona that the men had been so caught up with talking about Duncan's arrival that they had not even thought of siege. It was unlikely the man would arrive at an enemy's castle with only three other men in tow, however. She did not know who the scum thought he was tricking, but Fiona was not foolish. It may not be obvious to her now where the rest of his men were hidden, but she was under no delusions that the men were here for peaceful reasons.
She heard the men shouting orders to each other on the ramparts and then the low creak of the large wooden gates as they swung open to allow the men entry. She saw the figures of the men on horseback standing boldly on the stonework bridge leading towards the moors. The man in the center began riding through the gates, and hate twisted in Fiona's heart: Duncan Robertson.
The man’s face was rife with hate, twisted with anger even now before she had even spoken a word to him. She steeled herself, trying to keep the rage out of her own face. The horses' feet clopped over the stone as he approached, and then she saw him clearly, as the moonlight fell across his face. His bright red hair was like hellish flames, and his mouth cut a deep frown across his face, his expression harsh and already angry.
Another man followed behind him at a safe distance, also astride a horse. She frowned deeply; they had already disobeyed her order. She had called for only Duncan to be allowed entrance, and yet, here the man was bringing someone with him.
Her eyes narrowed, and her hands clenched into fists as the Laird dismounted from his horse. His stout body held a cocky swagger that Fiona immediately loathed. He regarded Fiona with a judgmental eye and sneered at her.
"I asked fer the Laird, and they sent me a woman?" he asked and then laughed derisively. "Where is the man? At least let me talk tae the general o' the Laird's army. This mus' be some sort o' joke!"
"An' I told my men tae only allow ye entrance," she said, her voice icy and thin, as she jerked her head to the man with him. "Who is this other man tha' ye bring with ye?"
"My General, Fingal," he said. "My most trusted an' loyal o' men. Did ye truly think tha' I would come intae my enemy's home alone? Ye must think me truly stupid."
"What do ye want with us here?" Fiona asked. She had heard enough from the man.
"I should ask ye the same thing," the man said, hefting up one ginger eyebrow at her. "What do ye want with my daughter? She 'as been missin' for days now. I know tha' she frequents a loch between my clan and yer own an' I have reason tae suspect tha' yer son has kidnapped 'er and tossed 'er tae rot in yer dungeons!"
Fiona felt all the blood drain from her face, and her mouth went completely dry. Immediately, her mind conjured images of Isla, the woman she had spoken to in the dungeon.
An' so the lass was lyin' all along. How could I have been such a fool?
Fiona thought of her son, who was in the company of the young woman even now. He perhaps had no idea how right he had been about her, though it still could be that she was not a spy.
But if she was not, what had she been doing all the way out here alone and in the middle of the night?
Fiona could not fathom. In front of Laird Duncan, however, she put on a stony face, her eyes narrowed into slits. She would not show fear in front of this murderer, and she certainly would tell him nothing about the girl. The longer she kept Duncan here, the more time she gave Iain to return.
"I dinnae what yer talking about, Laird Duncan," she said. "We have no lass in our dungeons, nor have we had any unwanted visitors besides the likes o' ye in some time. If this is some ruse tae get inside our walls, I must let ye know tha' ye will be the only man among yer group we allow entry."
